


Good Fellows

by DittyWrites



Series: Gotham Rogues Drabbles [19]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Everyone loves Waylon, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: It's Waylon Jones' birthday and a few of his friends are going to help him celebrate it with some (potentially questionable) gifts.





	Good Fellows

It wasn't every day the local human-crocodile hybrid celebrated a birthday but given that Waylon Jones was on relatively good terms with his fellow rogues, he should not have been too surprised to find that a few had banded together to wish him good tidings.

His gaze sweeping across his small sewer-based lair and the individuals whom had ventured down with gifts, a swell of something warm rose in his chest and caused a small grin to appear on his lips.

They had even brought him a tiny party hat which Harley had adorned his scalp with.

Greetings had been exchanged and hugs, for the ladies at least, had been provided and some gifts had been given.

Nygma had created an underwater rebreather to allow him to spend longer underwater without having to resurface for air while Tetch had crafted him a delicate-looking skip-cap which he had no intention of ever wearing.

At least not until he'd made sure it didn't have any of Tetch's tech hidden inside it.

Selina had given him a hoodie; large enough to ensure that his skin was covered when he ventured out amongst people in public. It looked black but when it was put under light it showed up as a very deep bottle green which he was privately very excited to test out.

He loved receiving clothing.

It made him feel human.

“My turn!” Harley squealed, her hands hidden behind her back. “Both me and Pammy,” she indicated to Ivy who was by her side, “clubbed together to get you this.”

Pulling her hands out, she thrust a large crocodile plush in his face, her grin splitting her face with enthusiasm.

“What d'ya think of it?”

Plucking the gift from her, Waylon brought it closer for inspection. The texture was soft as silk but it was sturdy enough to be in little danger of his scaled hands as he turned it over and saw his name sewn onto the small tag at the back. The emerald green crocodile had a wide smile which showcased its sharp, white teeth and Waylon's jaw stretched into a similar smile as he took in the sentimental gift.

“Thanks.”

The word was sincere and both Harley and Ivy gave him warm looks of appreciation.

“I have no gift,” stepping up, Crane was next to speak, “but I do have an offer of potential work which I want to provide to you before I look in other areas.”

“What a generous soul.” Ivy rolled her eyes.

“I would not make this offer,” Crane met her haughtily, “unless it carried a great reward for him to achieve.”

As Cranes' eyes never left his own, Waylon gave a sharp nod of agreement that their business could be discussed at a later date when less bodies were present.

“Last but not least, eh?” Digger cut in as he presented the last gift of the evening.

Handing over the small, almost dirty-looking box, Digger gave a greasy smile as he tilted his head at his fellow squad survivor.

“Just so ya know, mate,” he secured the box in Waylons' hands with a cheeky wink, “I got ya a gorgeous pair 'a thongs.”

Silence.

“You bought him what?” Crane was the first to recover his thoughts.

“Thongs.” Digger repeated, now confused by the changed atmosphere. “Even got 'im green and yellow ones to match his scales!”

More than one head found itself being shook of unwanted mental images as Digger further explained his gift.

“Harkness...” Selina began but was quickly interrupted.

“Why would ya buy him thongs?” Harleys' frown was matched by her pouted lips as she spoke her thoughts aloud.” “Crocy ain't really a thong type-a guy. I think?”

She looked to Waylon for support and was met with a negative look.

“Disappointed to hear that, big guy.” Digger shrugged. “Thought ya could have used 'em when you were bouncing in and out the water.”

“Why would he-” Edward piped up, finally involving himself in the conversation. “Why would that matter? What impact can thongs have in water?”

Faced with a room full of faces varying from confusion, to suspicion, to vague amusement, Digger held up his hands in defense. Opening his mouth again, it snapped shut just as quickly as an obvious thought came to him.

“Flip-flops.” He sighed, rubbing his head in his hands. “You people call 'em flip-flops.”

Again, silence held steadfast in the room before the inevitable explosion as realisation dawned.

Laughter, a deafening cacophony, erupted from each member of the party as the mistake came to light with the loud rumblings of Waylon being easily detectable over the higher-pitched humans.

Digger Harkness.

Human disaster and noted Australian.

They always seemed to forget that second part.

 


End file.
